Crush
by jiiterbug
Summary: Kurt just wants friends, wants one friend in particular and Blaine just wants to get to know the new boy with the blue eyes. Unfortunatley, it takes a while for them to get it right, not to mention stop blushing long enough to interact.


**A/N:** Well, in my head, Blaine's attack at Sadie Hawkins happens during eighth grade, so he transfers to Dalton sometime during the first semester Junior/High school (9th grade). Kurt transfers right in the middle of freshman year, though, so right after winter break. I hope that makes sense.

Hope you like it! :)

* * *

At first, Kurt didn't even really notice him.

"Hello, I'm Kurt Hummel, and I'm fifteen years old. I just transferred from McKinely High in Lima, and three things I enjoy are fashion, Broadway musicals, and singing," he recited to his shiny new classmates on his first day at Dalton Academy just as his teacher had asked. He could feel his cheeks flushed and wanted desperately to loosen his tie a little, and when Mr. Richardson pointed at his seat with the customary 'Welcome to Dalton' he was all too happy to be away from all those pairs of eyes watching him.

He felt something like adrenaline rush through him when some of the boys around him smiled his way, one or two even waving at him, but he quickly lowered his gaze. He smiled softly at the delightfulness that came with feeling accepted, and he let out a long breath of relief as he settled into his seat, notebook open and pen in hand.

It felt normal. _He_ felt normal. It was his first day in a brand new school far away from home—at least for him, because Kurt had never even been on a plane before—and never in a million years did he imagine it could be possible for him to be just Kurt Hummel instead of the gay kid with the squeaky voice.

He wanted to grin so badly he had to muffle his smile into the palm of his hand to avoid looking like a nut head.

* * *

Kurt Hummel made friends. Kurt Hummel made friends on his very first day at Dalton.

Not just one friend either, but, like, five.

And they were all normal, too.

As he skipped around his dorm room, folding up his uniform and extra dress shirts into his new closet—small, definitely limited, where would he put all his boots?—he couldn't help but burst out into a fit of giddy giggles whenever his mind replayed what had been one of the best days in a long, long time.

And when his roommate _and_ friend Thad walked into their room to be greeted by Kurt smiling manically at himself, all he did was laugh, and say, "You're so cute." Just like that.

And Kurt felt so, _so_ happy. His heart felt as though it had expanded to three times its normal width to accommodate all this love he was feeling, and although he'd only just met them (friends, friends, friends!) a few hours ago, he wanted to hug all of them and write a song for each of them to express his gratitude and happiness.

Later that evening, his friends—Thad, Jeff, Trent, Andrew, and David—took him to the on-campus coffee stand. They each had a biscotti and shared a bench, and Kurt could barely move through all his layers but he also couldn't stop smiling.

That's when they told him about the Warblers.

* * *

"Hello, I'm Kurt Hummel, freshman, and I'd like to audition for the Warblers. I'll be singing Blackbird, by the Beatles." He cleared his throat. His voice was trained to sound confident and in control, something he'd been forced to learn to achieve after being mercilessly shoved into lockers several dozen times a day during his stay at McKinely, the first half of his freshman year. (If people were physically hurting him, he should at least be able to defend himself without his voice shaking.)

The audition went smoothly. The few times he dared look at the 'council', which included David and Thad, and someone else he didn't know, he was pleased to note they were smiling and nodding along to his song, as if they were genuinely enjoying it. As soon as he was finished, after the older Warblers had congratulated him and told him they'd be contacting him soon for more information, he slipped away to his dorm room, where he called his dad and told him all about his first day at school.

* * *

Truthfully, Kurt Hummel didn't notice him, period.

Blaine had thought he'd seen the new boy watching him a few times, but obviously that had just been his imagination. Because Blaine was practically invisible, a walking ghost to haunt the halls of Dalton Academy.

These were the thoughts that tormented Blaine's mind that Friday, the last day of the first week back from break. He's laying across his bed, waiting for his roommate, Clint, to finally turn off the stupid television so he could go to sleep.

He felt silly. Pathetic, lame, stupid, also came to mind. Why was he so infatuated with Kurt Hummel? He didn't even know him, had never even talked to him. Why was he spending his Friday night laying in bed, moping about some guy he was too much of a coward to approach?

_Talk to him_, the logical side of his brain supplied. Talk to him on Monday. You can ask him if he wants to go see The Sound of Music next week. Because he said he likes singing and Broadway, just like you do.

_ He'll make fun of me, he won't like me, he'll think I'm dumb. _

He re-adjusted his arm against the mattress when he felt the ache start to spread over his elbow and bicep, from where his muscles were still recovering after having worn that cast for so long.

"Clint?" The word slipped past his lips before he could contain it, and he blushed, turning his head in the pillow so his roommate wouldn't notice.

"Yeah?"

"When you really like a girl… Or, say you like a girl. But you don't… I mean. Just, how long does it take for you to _really _like someone?"

There's a beat of silence. Then, "I thought you were gay."

Blaine's heart races, even though Clint's tone remains friendly.

"I know, I'm just…trying to make this so you're in your element," he says, pushing the words out of his mouth quickly, because he doesn't want to make Clint feel uncomfortable.

"Oh. Well, dude," Clint starts, as he turns to face Blaine's bed. "You just know. You see someone hot, with a nice set of boobs—or, in your case... Well, you know what I mean —And you can just tell she's someone you wanna be friends with. Then you just get to know her and if you think you work out together you'll be dating in no time. Get it?" He says, and then adds, "Of course, you gotta charm her first, you can't just sit back and wait for her to come to you. Let her know you're interested, girls like that."

"Yeah…" Blaine sighs wistfully.

"Yeah, if you need any help, just tell me. I'm really good at wooing," Clint says ostentatiously, confusing Blaine's tone for one of awe. "Hey, you come to me for more advice, 'kay? I'm really good at all this love-cupid's arrow stuff."

"Mmhmm."

* * *

He knows he shouldn't be this hard on himself. It's only been six months since the…accident, and his therapist told him it could take a while to get over the shock, and to be sure to take it easy.

It's just so frustrating, Blaine thinks, and he runs unsteady fingers over his hair in irritation, barely resisting the urge to grip against his scalp and _pull_. Things were supposed to get better, not worse. How was it possible that after living through_ that _he still couldn't get it right? He had barely any friends, his parents ignored his presence, his grades seemed to be slipping, and that wire of tension that seemed to be fisted around his chest was only getting tighter and tighter every day, leaving him gasping for breath.

Ever since the news of his accident had gotten out, there wasn't a single student in school who hadn't heard the story. And yes, at first the attention had been kind of nice. But when he started realizing a vast majority of the people who approached him did so solely to hear about what had happened, and to use him as a pity-case so they could check 'Good Deed' off their daily to-do lists, his heart had shattered into sand all over again.

All he'd wanted was for it to go away; the scars, the nightmares, the aching in his arm where that boot had nearly cut through his bones, and the stupid sweat that would brake over his forehead whenever the memories of that night rose up into the surface. Dalton, what with its no tolerance to bullying policy had been the perfect escape to allow all those bad feelings to go away. Instead, with the assistance of those stupidly outrageous rumors, it had become just the opposite.

And it was all their fault. All of it. If they hadn't been so close-minded then Blaine wouldn't be such a coward now, he'd be happy and he'd have the courage to talk to Kurt.

For the first time since it happened, he feels the hate rising in his throat like heartburn, threatening to spill over the surface as every muscle in his body tightens.

"Ow!" He cries out suddenly, cradling his hand into his chest and sucking in a breath.

There's a tiny dent in the wall where he'd hit it.

_At least boxing lessons are coming through_, Blaine thinks bitterly.

* * *

He squares his shoulders, swallows, takes a tiny step forward, reaches a hand up to slide it along his curls, just to make sure they're still in place, adjusts his tie, then blazer. Finally, he looks down to make sure his shoe laces are tied. He doesn't want to trip like an idiot. He wants to be perfect for him.

He'd spent at least half an hour staring at himself in the mirror. _He doesn't know about the accident, _he'd repeated to himself over and over to soothe his nerves. There wasn't one thing that could possibly go wrong. Blaine would walk up to him and talk to him and everything would be just fine. But as he watched the boy adjust a brooch onto his lapel—was that a miniature bow tie?—he wasn't sure he'd manage. He was so put together, so flawless and beautiful and what would Blaine ever be able to say to him?

Unfortunately, he finds himself standing right in front of Kurt before he can tell his feet to slow down, and panics.

"H-hey," he stammers, 'Hi' halfway out his mouth when he realizes 'hey' might sound a bit more casual.

Kurt's eyes—blue, and really, really pretty, wow—come up to meet his, and a soft, shy smile creeps over his lips. "Hey," he replies.

There's a beat of silence, in which Kurt watches him and Blaine tries to think of what to say next.

"I—you… Do you like The Sound of Music?" He blurts out.

"Yeah, I do. I love it, actually," Kurt says, smiling even wider, eyes crinkling a little. "My mom even named me after Kurt VonTrapp."

"Really? Because I got tickets to—" His voice comes out normal at first, but halfway through the last word the sound breaks into an undignified high pitched squeak. His hand reaches up immediately to cover his mouth, as if that could keep any sounds from escaping. Meanwhile, all the blood in his body rushes to his face and he flushes to the bone.

Kurt's face turns red so quickly it would probably be considered comical if Blaine weren't so mortified. His blue eyes are wide and his mouth slightly open, and he is at complete loss of what to say. "It happens to me too, sometimes," he finally settles on in an attempt at making Blaine feel better, but his eyebrows furrow as soon as the words are out and he blushes an even darker shade of crimson.

They're both red-faced now, and staring at their shoes.

"WellitwasnicetomeetyouKurtse eyou," Blaine blurts out suddenly, far too quickly to be understood, but he can't risk his voice cracking like that again or he'll die of embarrassment. He turns on his heel and walks with as much grace and pride as he can muster given the circumstances to his dorm, where he allows himself to remain buried in his fluffy pillow for the rest of the day.

_ Fucking puberty. _

* * *

That's when Kurt Hummel starts noticing him.

Ever since Kurt _almost_ got asked out on what he thinks (sincerely, with all his heart, fingers crossed, hopes) was a date, he notices Blaine all the time, and that's not even close to being an exaggeration.

There's a pattern too; In the several classes they have together, he'll spend all the time he can sneaking glances at Blaine where he sits a few desks to his side. He blushes whenever Blaine looks up to catch him staring, feels a thrill run down his spine when he finds the other boy's gorgeous hazel eyes boring onto him, and desperately attempts to slow his thumping heart whenever their eyes stay connected for more than one or two seconds.

He can't bring himself to smile at him, or act like he's interested. All he manages is to look like a complete creep, turning beet red whenever Blaine looks at him and acting stupid and foolish whenever they're forced to interact in class.

That's how he finds himself avoiding Blaine at all costs. He doesn't want to seem stupid, and he doesn't want Blaine to think he's the type of boy to stammer and trip over himself whenever he has a crush. It's frustrating, he thinks, that with his friends he can be witty and funny and smart but whenever Blaine is within a two meter radius of himself he turns into this foolish, day-dreaming, head-over-heels, silly little school boy who can barely remember his own name.

Where does all that feigned confidence run to whenever Blaine's around, is what he'd love to know.

He also spends a lot of his time wondering how he never noticed Blaine before, what with his eyes and the curls that sometimes manage to escape all that gel's hold.

* * *

It's Tuesday, a day after the incident, and Kurt is sitting next to Trent in Warblers practice.

The council reads through the list of songs they're allowed to perform at the Elderly Home, and announces the solos. Kurt didn't even audition for one, knows they tend to go to some of the older boys Kurt hasn't gotten to know too well yet. Still, he's thrilled and not at all nervous at the idea of a live performance. Music has always been a sort of escape for him, a place he can pour his soul into and be fearless of whatever people might think about him.

Now, music doesn't need to be an escape, because he's got nothing to run away from.

Maybe his dad could show up and record it, he thinks.

Once they are dismissed Kurt stays behind to help Trent select an audition song for a solo. That's when it occurs to him. After all, he's never had friends he can gush about his crushes to, and after years of watching it happen in movies the prospect seems very appealing to him.

"Hey, Trent? Do you know a boy called Blaine? He's in English class with us. Do you know him?" He knows as soon as the words are out that they sound far too airy and indifferent to be taken lightly, and sure enough Trent's mouth twists into a knowing smirk.

"Yeah, I do, actually," he replies teasingly. "Why?"

Kurt grits his teeth. "Just curious."

"Oh, curious, are we?"

"Trent! Gosh, just... forget it," Kurt snaps, though he can't help the embarrassed giggle from escaping him.

"No, come on... It's okay if you like him, you know. I mean, he's always staring at you."

"Really?" Kurt squeaks out, far too hopefully, and then quickly corrects himself. "I mean, I'm probably just in his line of vision, you know? And I never said anything about liking him," he scolds.

"So you like him," Trent states, ignoring him. He smiles smugly.

"So, maybe I do. Maybe I really, really, _really_, like him," Kurt says, blushing a little. It feels so good to admit it though, and it warms his heart to see Trent jumping up and down and flailing giddily like Kurt's crush is the most exciting thing in the world.

"Kurt, how adorable! You'd be so good together! Have you talked to him?"

"Well, I've tried. I just... always end up sounding stupid. All I can think about when I look at him is how smart he is and how badly I want to be his friend, it's so overwhelming sometimes, I just want to be able to talk to him and laugh with him and hold his hand. And he's kind of shy," Kurt sighs. He considers telling him about the almost-date thing, but decides not to. For the time being, he'd like for that precious piece of information to remain his little secret.

"Well, he's probably still traumatized, you know, about his accident. Poor Blaine. I've always felt so guilty over not trying to be his friend. You can tell he needs some."

"What? What accident?" Kurt asks, ignoring the little voice that tells him he's being nosy and creepy and bordering on stalkerish.

"You haven't heard? Well, it happened a long time ago, long before he got here." Trent says. His voice turns conspiratorial, the way it does whenever they discuss Taylor Lautner's love life. "He was attacked at his old school by some bullies for being gay. Apparently, they cornered him in an alley and just started kicking him and punching him, and he was unconscious for weeks, and there were exactly forty-six bones _not_ broken in his body. He moved in with his brother after that, because his dad threw him out of the house and his mom didn't do anything about it, but I think he's back home now." Trent sighs. "That's just what I heard. There are quite a few different versions to the story. Poor Blaine. He must be so lonely. We could ask him to sit with us at lunch tomorrow, then you could try and talk to him and then you could be friends and then we can figure out whether or not he likes you. Right, Kurt?"

"...Kurt?"

* * *

Kurt knows exactly what he's going to say. He'll tell Blaine how sorry he is about what happened to him, and that he hopes he's feeling better now. Then he'll ask him if he would like to go for coffee with him. He's kind of thankful Trent told him about the attack, because it had been just what he needed to realize Blaine not liking him back wouldn't be the end of the world, and he should just be brave.

_ Like Blaine had been._

"Hi," Kurt breathes, hoping his voice is loud enough to be heard over the overcrowded hallways of Dalton.

He watches Blaine startle and shrink onto himself before his eyes find Kurt's own, feeling pity curl in his stomach at the way he immediately relaxes.

"Hi," Blaine echoes, throwing books and random papers into his locker before snapping it shut and leaning against the door casually. Kurt really wants to give in to the sudden urge to let his eyes roam over Blaine's body, his trim waist and broad shoulders and his strong arms and for a fraction of a second he imagines himself wrapped around the other boy's body.

"I just wanted to say hi," Kurt says, flustered.

"Oh," Blaine says, though it comes out sounding more as a question.

There's a moment of awkward silence as both their cheeks redden.

What now? Kurt thinks. He settles for something he knows can't go wrong. "I like your bowtie. You're the first person I've seen wearing one with the uniform. It's refreshing."

"Oh, thanks," Blaine mutters, and Kurt watches delightedly at the smile that tugs up on his mouth.

"You're welcome," he smiles. They hold gazes and Kurt's heart dives.

There's more of that silence, and Kurt decides to just get it over with already.

"Listen, I heard about your...assault, and I just wanted to—"

"You heard about my—?" Blaine interrupts, tongue tripping over the last word.

Kurt is horrified to see all the color draining from the other boy's face, the way he takes a step back as though he's been physically struck.

"I—Yes, I did, I just... I just wanted to—"

"Is that why you wanted to say hi? You wanted to know if all those rumors are true, if I'm the—the damaged boy they all talk about?" Blaine bursts out.

And, oh, god, there are tears in his eyes, and his arms wrap around his middle like he's trying to curl up on himself and just disappear from view, and Kurt is scared and his heart is clenching painfully.

"No," he denies, "No! God, no, I just wanted to—"

"Well, it's true. It's all true, I'm damaged and spoiled and broken, and it's all true," Blaine spits out, voice a frantic whisper. The tears finally break through, but he doesn't bother wiping them away. His eyes—hazel and so gorgeous and so sad—roam over Kurt's face, an expression of pure misery and something else Kurt can't identify taking over his features.

All Kurt can do is shake his head, blinking back tears of his own because this isn't how things were supposed to go, all he wanted was to be his friend and ask him out for coffee, and what must Blaine think of him now?

He watches, for the second time, as Blaine turns and walks down the hallway to the dorms, a cloud of dread and nausea settling in the pit of his stomach.

_What have I done?_

* * *

Blaine cries into his pillow for exactly an hour and fourteen minutes, heart-wrenching sobs that make his stomach hurt.

Then he clutches it to his chest and thinks, even though he knows he shouldn't because lately his thoughts have a tendency to make him feel like he's not worth anything.

He feels stupid for thinking he had a chance at having someone like Kurt. He feels stupid for having wanted to try and woo Kurt like Clint had told him he should, at thinking he'd manage to pull it off. He feels stupid for ever hoping Kurt wouldn't be the type of boy to pity him and feel sorry for him and want to be his friend just because of what had happened to him, rather than who he is. Of course he heard about the attack. Of course he approached him to hear all about it.

He hates his therapist for making him believe it would get easier, for letting him get his hopes up. It's been half a year, why hasn't he made any friends? Why does he feel lonelier than he did at the hospital with no one but the kind nurse to keep him company?

Someone must have hit his head during the attack, he thinks. He's socially impaired, he'll never be able to get through this, and he'll die at forty alone and sad.

He hates himself, for not being good enough for his parents, for this world, for Kurt, for Dalton.

He wants to make it all disappear, he feels like he is drowning on air and he can't breathe and he wants so desperately to be happy, to be okay, why _god_ can't he be happy?

He just wants to be happy.

Kurt feels like dying.

He's laying across his bed, face buried into the pillow, mind a wreck.

_What have I done, what have I done, what have I done, _he realizes he's chanting the words out loud over and over again, and bites down hard on his tongue to stop himself.

It's a while before he can pull himself out of this dark, dark place he's in, and finally start thinking about how he's going to do to make things better. After all, that's what Kurt always does, pull through things no matter how hard they get. It's something he's learned to do.

He'll apologize to Blaine. He'll write him a letter, because he doesn't think the boy wants anything to do with him right now. He'll tell him how he really feels, and how much he wants them to be friends.

He just hopes that's enough.

* * *

Blaine skips school the next day.

Thankfully, Clint is a jerk and thinks he's crying over his comfort movie (The Little Mermaid, seriously, no one cries over that movie, much less sobs) and leaves him alone, so he doesn't have to worry about him talking behind his back.

He's finally alone and he has no idea what to do. The tears are all out now, and he can't think, not now, so he calls his older brother Cooper and cuddles into the warmth of his bed, waiting.

"Blaine?" Cooper calls out over the phone. There's a loud noise on the line, like wind, and Blaine smiles a little because it feels kind of nice to know his older brother will drop whatever he's doing to pick up his call.

"Were you recording?" He asks. "I can hear the wind machine."

"Yeah," Cooper laughs. "Shampoo commercial. Hold on, I'll tell them I'm taking a break."

Blaine doesn't even bother protesting, knowing any attempts would be futile at best, simply waits for the line to sound clear.

"Okay. What's up, Blainers?"

"I just... wanted to see how you were."

"...Okay. I'm fine. Are you gonna tell me the real reason you called me now?"

"Coop," Blaine starts, but he chokes on the word and his throat is closing up as tears blur his vision. He lets out a tiny sob.

"Oh, god, kid, don't cry. Can you tell me what's wrong?" Cooper's voice sounds pained and guilty, and that has got to be a record of how fast Blaine got so upset.

Blaine tries speaking."I—He... He's so— But I'm not, and I just—"

"Okay, I need you to take three deep breaths for me. Can you do that?"

Blaine tries, heaves breath after breath, knowing he sounds like a drowning cat but not having the energy to care, until his heart slows down a little and the painful lump in his throat lessens. Cooper telling him what to do has always calmed him during times of chaos.

"Good. Now just relax, and talk to me."

Blaine sniffs, huffing out a large breath and clearing his throat. "There's a new boy at school. Kurt, he transferred schools, and he's really nice, I really like—liked him but he didn't really notice me."

"Have you tried talking to him?" Cooper wonders.

"I have, I did, but he— he's witty and he's so perfect and he's just— And Coop, I've just been feeling so... frustrated lately. Like this whole accident thing is dragging me down and it won't go away and yesterday I just cried for hours and I'm so angry at myself for not being able to get over it but I just can't—figure this out."

Cooper is silent, but Blaine can hear him thinking.

"How come you didn't tell me you were feeling this way before?" He finally asks.

"I— I wanted it to go away, I thought if I ignored it, I could. Just. Coop, nothing's going right. I have no friends, I'm so lonely all the time, and people talk about me, about the accident, and nothing is going the way it's supposed to be."

"Blaine. Listen to me. Are you listening?"

Blaine hums in assent.

"Something terrible happened to you. Okay? But it didn't happen because of you," Cooper says. "It happened because some dumb kids thought that they could change who you are, and it happened because they don't understand love just yet. There will always be people who don't understand love, alright? Always. But that's okay, because I understand what love is, and love is unstoppable no matter what it looks like and feels like. Do you understand?"

"I do," Blaine whispers.

"Okay. Good. So, something terrible happened to you. Terrible things take a while to make better. This, what you're feeling right now is natural, it's expected. And the good news is that once you manage to get over this feeling, things are probably going to start looking up for you. It's almost good you're feeling this way, because now you get to choose what will make this better and you get to make it better yourself."

Blaine sniffs. "Okay."

"You get to show up at school tomorrow and walk up to this Kurt boy and you get to introduce yourself and start making friends and make your life right. It's what you were always going to have to do at some point, Blaine. This was never going to be over until you finished it. And you can finish it by showing those dumb kids that they were never going to change who you are, and that you don't believe that what you are is wrong."

"Okay," Blaine repeats, nodding even though Cooper can't see. "It's just that... When Kurt told me he'd heard about the accident I was so... disappointed, because I know he's only going to be my friend because he feels sorry for me."

Cooper is silent again, for a long long time. "You know what I think?" He finally says.

"No."

"I think you believe this is your fault. And that if it weren't for _you_ none of this would have happened."

_Well, duh._ "Maybe."

"And I think you think you're broken and unworthy, and don't trust anyone because you're afraid of getting hurt again. So you make up all these excuses to keep people from you."

"Coop, that's not—"

"No, this is exactly right!" Cooper insists, a little more harshly. "It's easier for you to think people think these bad things about you because of your attack than find out _why _it's been hard to make friends. It's even something you've been using against yourself, making yourself believe you're broken and that's why you're making no friends. But that's not it, is it?"

Blaine is speechless. He feels the lump in his throat rise all over again, but for entirely different reasons.

_Relief._

"You have no friends because you haven't tried making any. Nobody thinks you're broken. Nobody thinks bad things about you. I'm sorry to say this, kid, but nobody even _cares _and they won't start caring 'till you start caring. That's the way it works!"

And in that moment, as cheesy as it sounds, it's like everything seems a little clearer. Like Cooper just might be right, and _yes, _he has been making things up in his head, hasn't he?

"Really?"

"One billion percent really."

"Wow," Blaine laughs nervously. "That's..."

"True?" Cooper supplies.

"Yes," Blaine breathes. "It's true." It's all true!

Cooper smirks, and even though Blaine can't see it he can hear it over the phone. "See? You have to give yourself a little more credit, kid. You're an amazing person. You're worth _so much_. I'll bet you anything Kurt walked up to you to tell you he thinks you're totally smokin'. Aren't I right?"

Blaine chuckles. "When did you get so smart?"

"I've always been smart. You've been to dumb to notice."

"Just a second ago you were being so nice to me..." Blaine sighs in mock indignation.

Cooper ignorers him. "Tell me about this Kurt kid. But no crap about how the color of his eyes is the pond of heaven or anything, I haven't got much time."

* * *

When Blaine opens his locker the next day right before class, there's a tiny envelope sitting atop his books. He's a little scared at first of what it might contain, knowing one boy got an envelope filled with rotten cheese as a prank from the seniors once that left his locker with a disgusting stench for months, but with quick, slightly shaky fingers pulls out a piece of paper. It's a letter, he realizes. From Kurt.

His heart beats wildly against his chest as he begins to read.

_ Dear Blaine, _

_ The purpose of this letter is to apologize. I realize how badly I hurt you and how awful you must be feeling right now, and it's all my fault so I hope I can make it better. _

_ I don't know what I was thinking. When I heard about your accident, the first thing that crossed my mind was how nobody deserves that. The second was I wish I could hug you. (I promised myself I would be honest in this letter no matter what, so please don't think I'm usually this bold.) _

_ I used to be the only openly gay student in my old school, McKinely, and while I never had to go to the hospital for it, I was tormented daily by bullies. They called me names and pushed me against lockers and made sure I never felt good about myself. _

_ I tried to ignore them and keep my knowledge that they were wrong from letting the doubt creep up on me, and although it didn't work all the time, I stil hadl my dad to help me get through things. _

_ I finally got pulled out of that school when I couldn't take it anymore, and am proud of not feeling like a coward for it. _

_ Blaine, I know what you went through is much more worse than what I went through. But I also know that whether we are kicked or verbally bruised, the most important thing is to remain true to ourselves. Also, to always remember there's nothing wrong with us._

_ I think you're very brave, Blaine, for being able to get through what happened to you. But I also think you don't get told how special you are often enough, and how there's nothing wrong with you because of your attack. You're not broken or damaged, and I never in a million years would think that. _

_ So I'm sorry this happened to you, and I'm sorry you thought I was using you or your accident to make myself feel like a better person by pitying you. But I truly wasn't. _

_ I approached you that day in the hallways because I wanted to be your friend. I still do, and I hope you want to be my friend too. And I want to be your friend because ever since you talked to me at my locker I've noticed things about you, like how pretty your eyes are and how nice your voice sounds, cracks and all. And I've thought about what it would be like to make you laugh and what it would take to make your eyes sparkle. (Honesty.)_

_ I can just tell you're a good person, one that is worth getting to know. _

_ However, if you want us to just forget this whole thing happened and go our separate ways, I'll understand. All I want from you is to realize I never meant to make you cry. _

_ I'm really, really sorry, for everything. _

_ Kurt. _

When Blaine finishes reading the letter (three times) he folds it up and puts it in the front pocket of his shirt. He refuses to feel ashamed over knowing he'll keep it forever, no matter what happens.

He finally knows what he has to do, and it makes him feel so normal it's almost overwhelming.

He takes his books, closes his locker, and takes a deep breath. He walks forward, head tall.

* * *

Kurt is sure to be well hidden from view as he watches Blaine read his letter. He searches his face for any signs of what the boy might be feeling, and is relieved when he sees his tiny smile.

He'd been very nervous that morning and it had taken a lot of guts and several pep talks from Trent to slide the letter into Blaine's locker. It had been hard to write the letter, too; between wanting it to be as genuine and honest as possible, and yet still friendly, he'd spent until way past his usual bed time writing it, with the assistance of a flashlight once Thad had announced he was tired and wanted to sleep.

For most of his first attempts, he'd found himself writing something that certainly classified as a love letter, pouring out his heart and emotions into the paper and admitting to all his feelings without shame, practically begging Blaine to forgive him and be his friend. Fortunately, he realized that might not be exactly what Blaine needed. While the final result was a lot more censored in regards to his crush, he's satisfied he got his point across.

He cringes now at his earlier letters and how Blaine would have reacted had he chosen to slip one of those into his locker instead.

* * *

"Hello," Kurt says, giving a forced smile. He knows his voice is shaking a little but hopes Blaine can't tell.

"Hi," Blaine nods in acknowledgement. His eyes turn back to his notebook as soon as he chances a glance up at Kurt.

Kurt's heart drops, but the entire weekend all he could think about what Blaine, and he _has_ to know. He takes a deep breath. "Blaine, I'm really sorry."

Blaine is quiet, though his hand freezes where it had been scrawling across a page.

"I meant everything I said in the letter. And—That day in the hallway, I didn't approach you to discuss your... attack. I was wondering if you wanted to go for coffee, then. I mean... I wanted you to know I understand what you went through, and that's why I brought the subject up, but I didn't want to talk to you _about_ it, and I've been wanting to go out with you for a long time now—" He's rambling. Oh god, this is just perfect.

He's got half a mind to just walk away, but then Blaine speaks.

"Really?" He wonders, looking up at Kurt through his lashes, an almost flirty smile lighting up his face.

"Which part?"

Blaine blushes. "The part where you've been wanting to go out with me for a long time."

Kurt bites his lip. He nods.

"Because I've been wanting to go out with you for a long time too."

Kurt eyes snap upwards to Blaine, and sees him biting back a grin.

"Yeah?" He asks. Though he's grinning too, now, how could he not be?

"Yeah," Blaine promises.

And a million years from that moment, Kurt will never forget how they smiled at each other, how they shared a little giggle, how Blaine scooted along the couch to leave some space for him, how they stayed wrapped up in each other for the rest of the evening, sharing secrets and fears and their hearts.

How, by the time curfew was dangerously close, they're hands had been so tightly clasped between them for so long they could barely tell whose fingers belonged to whom.

* * *

"Blaine! There you are!"

"Oh, hi. I was just practicing something..."

"You were great. You should join the Warblers," Kurt suggests. "Then we could spend more time together," he adds, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

Blaine smiles bashfully at the praise, eyes cast downwards, and says, "You haven't even heard me sing."

"Blaine, anyone who can play the piano like that can sing. Besides, your voice has that singing quality to it, you can just tell by hearing you talk."

Blaine throws his head back and laughs, a bright piercing sound Kurt's been hearing a lot of lately. "Well, that's what I'm practicing actually, my audition. I was going to surprise you, but..."

Kurt beams.

"Maybe you could help me practice?" Blaine suggests hopefully.

Kurt nods enthusiastically. "Okay."

Kurt slides his legs over the piano bench, making sure to keep an appropriate distance between him and Blaine before turning to face him.

Their relationship is still too recent for them to have fooled around or done anything of that kind with each other, so sharing such a tiny space sends excited yet nervous thrills down their spines.

They both have to breathe deeply a few times to control their by now almost painful smiles before they get going.

"Okay, well, I was just... practicing it on the piano first," Blaine explains, gesturing at the sheet of music neatly placed on the piano. Kurt notices there are no words, just notes. "Now I'll try singing it as well."

"Okay," Kurt nods excitedly. "Go ahead. I'll just listen."

Blaine nods, and takes a deep, steading breath. Kurt takes advantage of the angle and distraction to admire Blaine's profile, the curving shape of his nose and his rosy lips and his unfairly attractive sideburns. He wants to feel; slide a finger over the side of Blaine's forehead, slide it down his nose, scratch along the hair at the back of his neck, maybe press a kiss to the dent right beneath his ear.

He flushes.

Blaine, oblivious to Kurt's not-so-innocent thoughts, plays the opening notes to a song Kurt can't put a name on. His eyes slide shut, eyelashes curling away from his cheeks in a way that will forever remain breathtaking. He allows himself to drown in the music, relaxing and letting go of the strings holding him back the way he only does when he can feel black and white keys against his fingertips.

Kurt watches the sudden transformation in complete awe. Everything about Blaine seems so different when he's playing. His posture is straighter but at the same time more relaxed; the knot between his eyebrows he'd seen far too much of the past week disappears. He lets his eyes explore, and they immediately drift to Blaine's hands pressing against the keys. They look so strong, and powerful, like they're fueling on the music they're making. It feels so intimate to watch him, to know those hands have been held between his own. To know how that rough spot in the third knuckle of his left hand feels against his lips.

But when Blaine starts singing, that's when Kurt's heart stops. He can't keep his head from snapping up, and gasps in sharply. Blaine eyes are on him, trusting and peaceful the way an ocean is right after a storm.

Kurt is sure he's never heard anything so beautiful. Blaine's voice is smooth and sounds like silk but it's rough too and there's emotion and pain and happiness intertwined into the notes and Kurt can only watch him and listen and pray to whatever he doesn't believe in that it never stops.

And it doesn't, it just get better, as Kurt watches Blaine pour his heart out into his song and the music wraps around them like a furry blanket that makes his chest feel warm and close to bursting. It's like Blaine's coming out of a shell, like he's turned into a ray of sunlight too bright to even look at.

He's happy, at that moment, laughing, and Blaine huffs out a laugh too and plays faster and faster and his voice wobbles and all Kurt can do is grin up at him, knowing his face must look unattractive by now but not caring because how could anything matter when Blaine's looking at him like that?

When the song finishes, when Blaine's voice fades into a sweet memory Kurt will replay over and over again for days to come, they're both laughing and giggling. Their bodies involuntarily slide closer, like magnets, until their shoulders are pressed against each other and Kurt is experiencing so many different feelings at once that there are sparks shooting off in his veins and he can taste the fireworks going off in the air where Blaine's voice had just filled it. He feels like he could do anything he wanted. So he does.

He leans in and kisses the laugh right out off Blaine, empties his heart out into the simple kiss because how else could he possibly express what he's feeling?

When he pulls back, Blaine's smile is still in place, but is slowly being replaced with a look of shock, all wide eyes and raised eyebrows and his tongue slides over where Kurt's lips had just been, as if wanting to taste them to be sure they'd ever been there.

"That was perfect," Kurt whispers. "You'll nail it."

Then he's sliding his legs around the piano bench, and walking to the door. He closes it behind him once he leaves the room.

Blaine stares, mouth dropped wide open.

His heart starts beating really fast, then, beating against his chest like a drum in a way that should be painful but instead feels so good, like his heart's awakening and telling him it's ready to start living again. A hand reaches up and presses softly against his lips, only to find they're turned up in a smile.

He yells then. He doesn't know why he does it. Maybe because he's so happy he needs the entire world to know. Maybe because that wire wrapped against his chest has disappeared, and become wings that will take him wherever he wants to go. Maybe because he knows this thing he's feeling right at that moment will never be taken away from him. Maybe because he just sung for the first time in six months, two weeks, and five days. Probably because he's just been kissed for the first time by the boy he thinks (is pretty sure) he loves.

It doesn't matter, anyway.

He's _free_.

* * *

**The End!**

(For my stories, I've been trying really hard to write about things I've felt before, so that I can describe the feelings with more credibility. This is why I put the boys in Freshman year, even though they're pretty young still. I think its kinda cute though, so I just went with it. I'm kind of nervous about this, I've been trying really hard to improve my writing so I hope whoever reads this thinks it's good. Thanks for reading, and please review or suggest for improvements :))


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